Signing Yearbooks
by aloette
Summary: A fact of life that one should always know: Ohtori Kyouya did not sign yearbooks. KyouyaxHaruhi. --NOW COMPLETE--
1. Chapter 1

My school is in a yearbook-craze right now. Maybe that's how I got the idea. Might be OOC and full of grammar errors, so my apologies. I guess this would be slight KyouHaru. I guess.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

Ohtori Kyouya did not sign yearbooks.

It was a fact of life. He. Did. Not. Sign. Yearbooks.

He was one of those people whom everybody asked to sign their yearbooks, but would turn them down with a polite, but definite refusal.

However, as is the case with many facts of life, there were exceptions. If the person asking might potentially help his family through business proposals or deals, then he would smile and say of course, he would be honored.

But in general, he did not sign yearbooks. Not to the fangirls in the class. Not to other boys who hoped to be Ohtori Kyouya's friend - or just an acquaintance would be good enough. Even the class president did not dare to blemish his reputation by asking Kyouya to sign because the outcome was almost sure to be a failure _and_ public humiliation.

It was a no-win situation for the majority of the Ouran High School student population.

Ouran yearbooks had learned to structure their books through years and years of trial-and-error. Now they were professionals. The weight of the yearbook was around ten pounds. It was defined through pages and pages being dedicated to the student body in all their wonderful, rich glory. The electives. The sports. And of course, the clubs.

Kyouya always made sure that the Host Club got an exclusive spread.

"Ohtori-senpai?" a voice interrupted him.

Kyouya looked up, remembering himself. Yearbooks had been passed out earlier that day, and classes had been cancelled for the remainder of the day to allow the students to ask their fellow classmates to write something.

A petite brunette looked back at him. Hr hands held the massive book that probably killed ten trees, if not more.

She held out the yearbook without saying anything. She didn't need to. Kyouya understood her immediately. Her eyes held a look of hope – she had always admired Kyouya, but this infatuation had always occurred at a distance. This was the first time she had actually spoken to him. Kyouya somehow suspected all of this without ever being told.

He eyed her pensively, and set down his pen. "Suzuki Hikari-san, I presume?" A niece of the president of the Suzuki Motor Corporations. First year, Class B. Kyouya briefly recalled that the company was doing very well in America right now. The stocks were going up from his research.

She blushed. "I'm honored that Ohtori-senpai knows my name."

"Please do not flatter me so. May I help you?"

Now her eyes darted down. Then they carefully looked up, eyeing him. She still held out the yearbook, using both arms. It was getting quite heavy.

"Please?" her eyes pleaded.

His eyes held no sympathy. "I really am sorry," he said in a curt voice. "But I have business to attend to shortly."

She was blinking now. Confusion. Ohtori-senpai, please, she was saying. But he had already left, leaving her to stand there in the classroom like a fool, with both arms outstretched.

He didn't sign yearbooks for strangers, and his family didn't need Suzuki stocks right now. In fact, if he remembered correctly, a friend of Suzuki had recently been arrested for possession. He didn't want his family to have an association with _that_ sort of people.

"Kyouya-senpai?" another voice interrupted him.

He looked up, this time seeing a more familiar sight. Haruhi stood next to the table he was sitting at. She too held a thick yearbook.

Yearbooks were given to scholarship students free of charge. She would have been unable to pay the 300,000-yen price otherwise.

"Yes?" he said nonchalantly. He had arrived early in the Third Music Room to set up for today. He was slightly impressed by Haruhi's punctuality. It was one of those few, if not rare, times that she actually came _early. _Maybe he would mention it to her.

"Why don't you ever sign yearbooks?" she asked all of a sudden. She tilted her head slightly to the side.

"Why do you want to know?" he said, suddenly on the defensive. "Surely whether I want to partake in this seemingly pointless tradition or not is of my own bearing."

"True, but I always figured that doing it would bring more business to the club. I guess I'm just curious."

"What about Tamaki? And the twins? And Hunny-senpai and Mori-senpai? They sign yearbooks. It's good enough."

"I would have thought that your thinking would be more is better," she said. "But I guess I was wrong. Is it really that big of a deal?"

"Do you do it?" he asked her. "Sign yearbooks."

"To an extent. Like if a customer asks me."

"A customer. But what if it was someone you didn't know?"

"Well," she said with a bit of hesitation, "then maybe not."

"That's my argument."

"But you don't even sign for the people you do know. I've never seen you anyway. Then again, I've never imagined you writing something in a yearbook."

"Look at Tamaki, for example. He will sign anybody's if they ask him. Even if they don't ask him, he will ask them. That's his character. Not mine."

"And the twins are kind of like Tamaki-senpai, I guess. They share a yearbook, you know, and they usually sign other people's too."

"But only if they like them. Or if amuses them enough."

"True. Then, what about Mori-senpai? He doesn't say much, so I can imagine that he doesn't write much either," she said.

"He writes in a very efficient manner to get it done. He won't write drawn-out statements of thanks or such. And Hunny-senpai is the complete opposite because he takes up a lot of space because of his pictures, but the girls love it."

"Ah. I expected as much."

Haruhi pulled out a chair that faced Kyouya. She sat down and plopped the heavy book on the table. She seemed to be relieved. She said, "Then what about you, Kyouya-senpai?"

"I do what I do."

"That's a very vague answer."

"And that's what I intended. Excuse me for saying this, but I'm not entitled to tell you anything."

"Because there are no merits?" she asked without missing a beat.

"Perhaps."

A silence fell over the pair. Kyouya checked the time. In ten minutes, the rest of the Host Club, the _punctual_ ones at least, would make their way here.

For now, it was just him and Haruhi.

She set her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm. She looked out the window, and seemed to be contemplating something.

Kyouya decided to use this time to write some notes, but he didn't get very far.

"Kyouya-senpai?"

A look of annoyance crossed his face. "What?" It sounded more malicious than he had intended.

She was oblivious to the threatening tone of voice, and casually pushed her yearbook across the table until it sat in front of him. He stared at it. "And?"

"Can you sign it?" she said with a shrug.

"What makes you think I will?" he asked.

"I don't know. It doesn't hurt to try, right?"

He looked at her amusingly. It was a bit more interesting now. Her face was passive, however, and she waited for his response.

Finally, Kyouya sighed. He took out his fountain pen – he never believed in Sharpies – and reached out to grab the yearbook.

He opened the cover to find it blank. Evidently, no one had signed it yet. He uncapped his pen and tried to think of something to write.


	2. Chapter 2

Because some people have asked for it and because I am lacking the inspiration for my other fic, _How I Met Your Mother_ (you can check it out on my profile), I decided to write a sequel to this fic. I hope it turned out okay.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

She watched him move his pen with swift, deft strokes. It was like watching a painter, and Haruhi was sure that if Kyouya-senpai ever wanted to, he could be a famous artist.

She watched him pause for a moment, and then continue to write. For her, it seemed like an eternity before he closed the book with a thud and slid it back across the table. For him, it was about twenty seconds.

Haruhi didn't read it. She mouthed a 'thank you', and placed the yearbook back into her book bag.

And in a second, Kyouya knew why.

The door of the Third Music Room was flung open, and five familiar figures entered.

Tamaki's voice was the loudest of all. "Haruhi!! Sign my yearbook, and I'll sign yours!" He took out his own, and flipped to the first page. "See? I saved the _entire_ first page for you! And then we'll have a father-daughter page, see? See?"

"I…see," she replied weakly.

"That's not fair, Milord," Hikaru interrupted. "What about us then?"

"Yeah," Kaoru continued, "unless Milord is being possessive over _our_ toy."

"Toy? How dare you call your sister a toy? Have you no respect at all for such a beautiful–"

"Haru-chan, Haru-chan!" Hunny said next. "Sign mine too, okay? And Takashi's too, okay?"

"…Okay." Haruhi sighed. It still never ceased to amaze her how the former tranquility of the Third Music Room could be destroyed in the blink of an eye.

The arguing, however, stopped when Kyouya stood up and made a small 'cough' sound.

"If it's not too much to ask," he said with a smile, "our guests will be arriving in five minutes, and we have yet to setup."

It worked. The childish bickering stopped, but Tamaki asked Haruhi one more time to _please_ sign his yearbook and the twins began to take out the tea sets, all the while shouting orders across the room.

And thankfully, when the first girls arrived (Haruhi's clients from Class 1-A), the tables were ready and the hosts in place.

"Welcome."

--

Clean up was Haruhi's favorite time of club. And it was _not_ because she would be able to go home soon. Not.

It was relatively quiet now, the majority of the din coming from the slight clanging of the cups and the heaving of the tables.

Tamaki was quiet, but only because Haruhi actually did write something. He would have been more pleased if Haruhi had written more than just, "I hope you have a nice summer, Tamaki-senpai, and I will see you after the break," but Haruhi was Haruhi, and there was no way that she was going to write something along the lines of, "I hope we'll have lots of adventures during the summer together! I can't wait to see what you have planned for us! With lots of love, Haruhi!"

His initial protests were ignored, but he did feel better when he saw that Haruhi wrote the exact same thing for the twins, who might as well been protesting to a brick wall.

Kyouya, for his part, said nothing more to Haruhi for the rest of the day. She didn't mind it, for she could already imagine the potential chaos that could erupt should the rest of the boys find out that Kyouya (the Shadow King of them all) wrote in her yearbook.

Tamaki's current moping was a direct cause of the twins' teasing, so she was left alone in her thoughts now as she swept the floor.

She wondered what Kyouya wrote. She already knew what Tamaki had written because he had decided to read it out loud afterwards. The twins had written something that she had not yet seen, and she only hoped that it wasn't something dirty.

All the girls had been pleased to write in the hosts' yearbook. The day had been dedicated to signing, so all the hosts had rotated around the tables.

She hadn't really expected Kyouya to write something in first place. Naturally, she imagined that it was about her current debt, and how much more she owed the club.

Haruhi had never been exactly updated on her debt, so she didn't know the exact number. Was it possible that her debt had gotten worse? It was a daunting, but possible, situation. Kyouya, after all, had always kept his system complicated as for the rental fees, the teacups she had broken, and the repair costs for any clothing that she might have accidentally stained.

Never had it occurred to her that he might write something else. He wouldn't. Or...would he?

She was at home now, preparing dinner for her father and herself. He was supposed to get off work early today, and she was glad because he hadn't been eating much lately.

Waiting for the rice to cook, Haruhi sat down at the table, taking out a workbook and pencil. She opened it and began answering questions, but at halfway through, her concentration was already starting to wan.

She wanted to read what he had written.

No, she tried telling herself, don't. You already know what he wrote anyways, so why bother? Homework. Homework is the priority now. Think _homework._

Her head was talking to her, but her heart was saying something else.

Kyouya-senpai seems cold and emotionless, but that was not really him. He could be kind too, in his own way. He was thoughtful too, in his own way. Kyouya could be a completely different person if only you looked hard enough.

She was sure that she saw bits and ends of his true self once in a while, like when he was trying to teach her that lesson at the beach house. Haruhi never imagined a different motive.

Perhaps he didn't just write about debts and money in her yearbook.

No, Kyouya _definitely_ wrote something else. He was always enigmatic anyways; it shouldn't surprise her now.

She shuffled out of her seat and reached into her book bag. Taking out her yearbook, she silently opened the front cover.

_As of this moment, the amount of which you owe the Ouran High School Host Club has yet to be paid off, so I would recommend that you continue to work hard. I can imagine that you wouldn't enjoy staying at Ouran for another four years just to pay off this debt. It would not be wise to have a drawn-out debt because the chaos that it would cause is not worth the merits. However, the experiences that we have shared, as club members, are indeed special, and the relationship that we have cultivated thus far is one that will always be remembered.  
__-Ohtori Kyouya_

Haruhi wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, to smile or frown.

It wasn't what she had expected, but on the other hand, it was what she had expected.

She closed the book gently and set it aside.

The rice was cooked now, and besides, she had yet to think of what to write for him.

* * *

From the way I ended it, I'll probably have to write another chapter. Oh joy.

Anyways, as you can probably imagine, it is VERY difficult to think of what Kyouya would write. The emphasis on VERY. I think ideally, he would write something that is short and meaningful, or maybe that's just my imagination. I'm sorry if it turned out crappy, because I'm not that good of a writer. If anyone has suggestions, I'm willing to listen. (I'm rereading what I wrote, and I feel so bad. Sorry!)

Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated, and flames will become my source of entertainment for the day.


	3. Chapter 3

A _long, long_ time since I last updated. I know; I wrote this primarily to finish it, because I haven't been in a fluff mood lately at all. (Blame sleepiness and stress.) So, sorry if there's not much KyouHaru fluff.

* * *

The mystery that was Fujioka Haruhi prevented Kyouya from getting any good amount of sleep that night, and so he mentally added another five hundred yen to her debt.

He made another mental reminder to use a blindfold the next night. With summer coming in a matter of hours, the talk of the hallways had turned to vacationing spots, and with the wealth of its students, destinations ranged from "a quaint villa in Spain" to "a water-skiing resort in the Caribbean."

For his part, Kyouya was glad that he was not going to go anywhere for the next few weeks. Oversea trips were getting boring now, and they also could be tiring for his nerves.

Yes, staying at home was probably the best option.

When the last bell rang throughout the classrooms of Ouran Academy, the girls walked out carefully in various groups, and the boys ran out to meet their friends. The members of the Ouran Host Club met down in the courtyard where they once brought in the _sakura_ trees.

Tamaki was squeamish, as if he was patiently waiting for the others to come, and they were not giving him the attention that was due. He tapped his foot on the ground with his arms crossed, a bad habit of his, Kyouya noted, and sighed long breaths that made him seem like an expectant father.

Then again, Haruhi wasn't here yet, and perhaps he viewed himself as such in her absence.

"Kyouya," he asked, "Haruhi _is_ coming, right?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? Did you tell her about the meeting?"

"I thought you took care of it!"

His eyebrow twitched. "I thought the meaning of 'Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it,' meant that you were going to tell everyone about it."

"And I…forgot?"

"So then she's not coming." Kyouya took a breath, and checked his watch. "I suggest that we leave then. No point in waiting for someone who won't show up."

Again, he mentally added five hundred yen to her debt for wasting his and five others' time.

One of the twins, probably Kaoru, decided to speak up then. "She wasn't at school today."

"She might be sick," finished the other, which then, had to be Hikaru.

"So I know–"

"–why don't we just go to her house–"

"–and have the meeting there!"

Both twins smiled victoriously now, and this was directed at Tamaki, who, at the moment, was unable to find a suitable corner for himself to weep in.

"It works," Kyouya said simply.

"And it'd be nice to go to her house again, right?" Hunny asked. "What'd you think, Takashi?"

Mori gave his approval of the situation. "We should bring a gift," he offered.

"That's right! We'll need to bring cake!"

"So it's settled?" Hikaru said, looking around for any objections. "Milord?"

"Why, of course! For such a chance to visit my daughter's humble home is something that will not be passed upon by me. So everyone – we will convene at Haruhi's house in an hour's time!"

Thus the six passed their judgment, the decision having been made in a swift seven minutes, Kyouya thought.

Then he made a call. It would probably be better to warn her of the Armageddon.

--

Wrapped in a thick, but coarse, blanket, Haruhi wiped her nose. Of all days to get sick, she thought, and it was because she'd forgotten to close the window! Really, wasn't summer supposed to be the time of hot weather? So why had hot tea and bed warmers appeared instead?

Haruhi sniffled, but decided that the only good that came out of this was that she, at least, did not have to see the host club, and its overly gregarious members.

A low buzzing sound brought her senses up, but by the time she reached her phone, the ringing had stopped. Low battery, she noticed. She turned off the phone.

It was probably some wrong number anyway. The phone was forgotten for the moment as Haruhi stood up weakly to refill her thermos.

And then, just like that–

The doorbell rang.

Haruhi was an expert by now in such situations. What were the possibilities, she thought, of that person being her neighbor? Or her landlady?

Not very high, she concluded, as her neighbor had already left for vacation, and the next month's rent had already been paid.

That left for one other group of people. One group of people of which she was all too familiar with.

Haruhi decided to return to her futon and fall asleep then and pretend it was a bad dream. Perhaps they would give up and go away. Leave her alone. Go bother someone else…

And through this will of hers, Haruhi managed to bring herself to a light sleep.

--

"The door's locked!" Tamaki announced.

"No, really?" Hikaru said sarcastically. "Ring the doorbell again."

"I did! But no one's answering!"

"Ranka-san should be out," Kyouya noted, "but if Haruhi was indeed sick, there is a ninety-nine percent chance that she is inside, and she simply does not want us to come in."

"But why not?" It was the cute senior who asked this. "We have cake!" he added, as if cake was indeed the solution to every illness on this planet.

"Perhaps we should break down the door," Tamaki tried. "Yes, what if Haruhi was simply trapped inside by her incurable illness? Or, what if she was disabled by a broken leg, and she was unable to answer our calls for her?" Tears glazed his eyelids, and his imagination took hold of him.

"What if she was inside, right now, listening to us," he continued, "and she was secretly asking, no, _begging_, us to open the door because she was unable to?"

"Milord, I don't think–"

"Don't delude yourself, Haruhi, in the torment of your disabilities!" he cried out suddenly.

"No, Tama-chan!" Hunny joined in. "Don't do this to yourself! Takashi can open the door, right?

"Yes."

"Really? Mori-senpai, you'd do that for me?"

Hikaru leaned closer to Kaoru, and whispered, "Is it just me, or has Tamaki-senpai become more dramatic than ever in these past few days?"

"It's quite understandable," Kyouya cut in, "considering that he's not going to see Haruhi for a while."

Both twins nodded in agreement. By the time they had looked up, they heard a very loud noise.

And Mori had twisted the doorknob so tightly that it fell off, bouncing in front of Kaoru's foot.

"Whoa…"

From there, Mori easily opened the door, standing aside to let Hunny in.

"Yay, Takashi, you did it!"

"Mhm."

"Whoa…"

Tamaki had already followed in after Hunny. "Kyouya, let's rescue our daughter from this incurable disease!"

Kyouya went in next. "There's a eighty-seven percent that she only has the common cold…" he was commenting.

The twins were still staring at the doorknob at their feet. Mori had just broken down a door.

Hikaru picked it up. "That was…"

"Cool."

"Mhm," Hikaru agreed, and the twins went in last with the doorknob in their hot little hands.

The door now, unfortunately, could not close.

--

Haruhi vaguely realized that something was wrong when she heard a loud slam outside. Thinking (or hoping) that is was a tree or some very loud wind, Haruhi shut her eyes and dreamed of a land far, far away.

Turning over to the side, she tried to think of a peaceful area, such as a library. The image was conjured in her mind until–

"Haruhi!"

A near wail shook her from her thoughts, which also signified the end of all that was quiet in the world. In her apartment, at least.

For a moment, she contemplated hiding in the closet, but in the end decided not to. With his inner-mind theater, Tamaki might have mistook the unmade and messy futon to be the scene of a Haruhi-kidnapping.

Or something like that.

She dragged herself out, coughs and sniffles and all, and called out, "Yes?"

Tamaki was on her in a second's time, his sensors evidently Haruhi-based. A bear-like hug swamped her off her feet, but she managed out, "Senpai…I'm _sick_."

"Oh, sorry." Tamaki, with a considerable deal of restraint, brought himself off, but not before adding, "Never fear, Haruhi! A father will never catch cold from a daughter, not if the bond between them is filled with tender love and care."

"So by that logic," Hikaru began.

"Milord should already be coughing!" Kaoru finished for him.

With that, Tamaki turned on the two twins with a various array of Shakespearian-ish insults.

"Devil incarnates! Why, you..."

The twins laughed and ran away from his grasp.

And Haruhi marveled at how ten minutes ago, a _mere_ ten minutes ago, she had been sleeping in an atmosphere that one could best describe as tranquil.

Now Hunny turned towards her. "Haruhi, are you really sick?"

"Not that much," she said, "just a cold."

"I see," he said, nodding his head. "So cake will make you better, right?"

"Huh?"

An expensive looking box was whipped out from behind his back. "Here, Haru-chan! We brought you some cake!"

"Er, thanks, but I don't think–"

"I know it's not a lot, so Takashi ordered a few more boxes for you, and–"

"–that's necessary–"

"–they should be here in an hour," Hunny finished, a bright smile lining his face.

Haruhi looked at Hunny, then at Mori. Then she sighed in obvious defeat. "Okay, fine."

Hunny's smile beamed at her once again. He dragged onto Mori's sleeve towards the kitchen. "C'mon, Takashi, let's set up the cake for everyone…"

She turned to watch them go, and she saw Tamaki and the twins convene around the seniors at her kitchen table.

Then that meant there was only one other person–

"I hope this wasn't a bother for you," Kyouya said.

"Oh, no, I was just sleeping when all six of you decided to crash at my apartment on a whim."

"I tried calling you," he said, ignoring her sarcasm, "but you didn't pick up."

"Really?" Then she realized that perhaps Kyouya had been the one who was calling her. Her phone was now somewhere lost in her bed covers.

His thoughtfulness at once made her reassured and suspicious of his actions and motives. She decided to concentrate on the former.

"So, er," she tried, "maybe we should go to the kitchen now."

Kyouya didn't seem too eager to do so. He remained rooted to the spot where he stood, taking notice of the bookshelf to Haruhi's right.

"You know," he began, "for a commoner, your bookshelf is quite well-stocked."

She wasn't sure if it was a compliment or an insult. It probably didn't matter. "Er, thanks."

"Last time we were here," he continued, "I saw that you had the _Tale of Genji_."

"Oh, that book. Yeah, Dad got for free once from a customer."

"I take it that you've read it?" He walked past her towards the bookcase, taking out a hardcover and flipping it open as if he knew every book on that case, and as if he was more familiar with it than her.

"Yes. The prince kind of reminds me of Tamaki-senpai."

Kyouya suppressed a chuckle. "I suppose so." He returned the book to the shelf.

The chatter from the kitchen continued, the rest of the boys having forgotten about Haruhi and Kyouya.

"By the way, Haruhi," Kyouya asked, "did you write anything?"

"In what?"

"My yearbook," he said, but to Haruhi, it seemed as if he'd just gone against his entire family and done something unthinkable.

"Not yet," she replied truthfully. "I was going to, but then I fell asleep. And then I got sick."

This time, Kyouya's lips turned somewhat up. There was amusement to his face. Unconsciously, she flushed.

"Well, if you ever do write something," he added, "just return it to me."

"Okay," she said. Her head turned towards the kitchen again. "Maybe we should go now. Or else they'll burn down the kitchen and Dad will get mad at me."

"A kitchen is easily replaceable," he said, which earned him a look from her. "I could always find you a good deal."

"I'm sure you will, Kyouya-senpai," but it wasn't said of sarcasm, for then, she smiled. It was a nice smile, he decided.

She beckoned her head towards the others. "Let's go," she said.

He shrugged, and adjusted his glasses. With summer just starting, there would plenty of time to see Haruhi, her thought. There would be plenty of time to analyze what she would write in his yearbook, and it was with this thought in mind that he and Haruhi went to the kitchen where Tamaki, the twins, Hunny, and Mori were already gathered, eating the cake almost gone, perhaps representing the time that they would have left in the Host Club.

But Kyouya tried not to think of that. Instead he concentrated on sticky fingers and plates, a loud blonde and two mischievious twins, and the possibility that perhaps, no matter what he said or thought, he actually kind of liked Haruhi.

* * *

Yes, it was open-ended. No idea so far about sequels, but if there is, it won't be coming in the near future. Sorry.

Reviews would be loved.


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